


Der

by offwhxte



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offwhxte/pseuds/offwhxte
Summary: (AU where Reid is the most talkative and touchy person on the planet)Derek Morgan has a one night stand that comes back to haunt him.





	

There's a knock at the door. I know exactly who it is.

There are times now where I consider not answering, just sitting here until he leaves. But I think both I and he know that he'd never leave.

I push myself up from my couch. Five steps to the door from there, just as it has been for the past three months. I should move.

I grasp onto the doorknob and peek out the peephole, because maybe another person decided to come over. But, no. Of course it's him.

"Hello!" he says as I open the door just so slightly that I can see him, his raspy voice much more strong this morning. His hair is crazy, but not once have I seen him with anything more formal on his head, and he has a small tupperware in his hands. I glance down. It's filled with cupcakes.

"Hey...Shane."

"Spencer," he corrects with a wide smile, extending the blue container to me, "Hope you like these, Der. I worked hard on 'em."

I open the door wider and slap them out of his hands. They fall to the ground, upside down, most likely ruining them. He looks down and back up to me.

"Not a fan of vanilla?" He pulls his backpack that he always has around to his front, digging through it, "I also brought chocolate, red velvet, and cinnamon if you're one of those people. There's a few mini cupcakes but those are vanilla too-- Oh! And Ethan sent me little cheesecakes from home and I thought you might want to try one. Just in case."

I stare blankly at him.

"Well, aren't you gonna let me in?" He smiles wide and bats his eyelashes.

"If I do, will you leave?"

"That's awfully contradictory, Der, but I'll take it!" The bag drops to the ground and he pushes the door open, jumping up and wrapping his arms around my neck. "I missed you, especially that little scowl of yours."

"I don't scowl," I grumble.

"Of course you don't, bunny. You rearranged! I wish you would have said. I LOVE rearranging. You gotta show me around again. First, where's the kitchen again? I don't assume that you've changed that much, but I'd not be surprised. You seem like that kind of person. Keep up, Der! Don't just stand there."

He was a one night stand three months ago. That was it. I woke up the next morning with a tiny poker fiend under my arm. After his eyes opened... I suppose that's where everything started.

\--

_"Hello. You were very good. Much better than anyone I've ever had. You're... Derek, correct? Derek Morgan." Dainty fingers framed my face, wide-set eyes searching my features, "I like that. Your name. You ever been to Vegas? You'd love it there. I bet you'd look gorgeous in heels. I'll have to get you some. Would you wear them for me? I wouldn't laugh."_

_I wasn't sure what to say. So many words, so much passion in so many questions and compliments and kindness. One night stands didn't end like that, they ended with shame and red faces and gathering clothes. He must have stayed in the bed, reintroducing himself to me, for about an hour._

_"I'm Spencer, not Spence or anything weird like that. You can call me Reid, if you want. Dr. Reid, if you're feeling frisky. My grandmother called me that, she was often quite stuffy, but you get that, don't you? She made fabulous pastries," he leaned back into my shoulder and played with my fingers, "She'd have loved you. Dark and pretty. You'd have to deal with her flirting, of course. She was silly. You'd come for the pastries and stay for the pastries, at least I did. Boy, do I miss her. She's got brown eyes, like yours, but I like yours better. Obviously. Has anyone ever told you that you've got a spectacular complexion?"_

_His giggle was dainty and quiet, a little raspy from the earlier strain on his voice. He tugged at my American-flag boxers that I would soon learn that he liked a lot. He'd give me a nickname for them too. Mr. Freedom._

_"I like your voice. Especially when you're saying my name. Sounds so... masculine. My friend Ethan always says I sound like Owen Wilson." He turned his head to the side and placed his hand on my chest, "It's so nice here. I love it. I think you're my favorite part, though, with your little pouty face. C'mon, let me see that beautiful smile."_

_Spencer's fingers poked the ends of my lips and pulled them upwards for a minute. A smile formed on his own face, as if I was a voodoo doll. He gasped and pulled away._

_"Look at me, rambling again." He shook his head and sat up, "I should be quiet, should I? I like this, though, your bed is mighty comfortable. I might like to come back another day. If my schedule allows, that is. Although, I don't have much to do nowadays. You wouldn't mind, would you? I won't bite, not unless you like it. I kid, of course! Don't get so red, Mr. Freedom. Where have my boxers gone?"_

\--

I watch silently, sitting at my own kitchen counter as I watch him spread out his cupcake collection across the granite. The containers are each their own different color, masking tape on the sides with staccato-esque handwriting labeling the flavors.

"If you don't want them, I'll go to the Souplantation down the street. Those people are so nice! I love people here. With their cute faces and soft hair and-- OH, where is Baby?" Spencer turned to me and raised his eyebrows excitedly, "I don't expect you've given her away, have you? You could give her to me, if you'd like? It gets awfully lonely in my flat."

I don't know why I expect him to be homeless. It's hard to picture him in his own house, being as he's always at mine.

"Yes, Clooney is still here," I tell him dryly. The fluffy dog pads into the kitchen and perks up at the sight of the scrawn man in my kitchen. He scurries over and rubs against Spencer's legs.

"You should rename her," Spencer says, bending down and dragging his wine-colored nails gingerly down Clooney's spine. "She's not used to the name. I haven't told you, but I've been calling her Baby for awhile. Awful sorry. She just answered to it, I must say. I could stop, if you want."

"No, no," I say in a long exhale, pressing my palms to my eyes. "Call him whatever you want."

"She's a her, Der. She/her pronouns, please. You're destroying her ego."

I stare at him for a long time. I've known him for only three months, and he knows my dog better than I do.

"Sean, can I ask you something?"

"Spencer, and yes," he smiles.

I know his name. I just forget sometimes.

"Why are you still here?"

He looks up at me with a fear in his eyes that I can't place. He retrieves his hand from Cloo-- I mean, Baby, and stands up.

"Oh, I... I apologize, I thought..." he looks around once before meeting my eyes again, "I thought we were friends, I... I must seem so awfully rude."

"No, it's okay."

"I've been intruding," Spencer shakes his head at himself, his face solemn for a moment before picking up his signature smile again, "I'm very sorry, Derek. I'll, um... show myself out. You can keep the cupcakes, if you'd like. Thank you for being my Californian friend for my last couple months here."

I blink once and stand, blocking him as he tries to leave, "Last couple months?"

"Well, of course." His eyebrows furrow like it's been the most obvious thing in the world, "We made love on the first day I got here, and I got the news a few days after. I only had three months. Of course, I've missed my mom terribly and she's probably confused as to why I haven't visited in awhile. I can send some cupcakes from the store in Vegas if you want them, which... which I guess you don't, because I..."

He looks to his feet and wrings his hands.

"Anyways," the smile is back as he looks up at me, "Been very nice getting to know you, and I hope someone else gets to share that wonderful bed with you. Please never go out into the sun, never lose your complexion. I love it. I'll send postcards, and some heels, and some toys for Miss Baby over there."

I can't believe... he let me treat him like dirt... for three months, when they were his last three in Cali.

\--

_"Hello? Heels? Mr. Freedom? Morgan? Um... Der?"_

_He was knocking loudly on my door at five in the morning. I didn't know why, I didn't really care to know. It was nearing the second week of him coming around. I just didn't understand why this guy was so clingy._

_I flung the door open, "WHAT?"_

_He quickly pushed past me and, dropping his bag next to the door, began unbuttoning his shirt._

_"I had a nightmare so I went for a walk, and then I was going home and this man wanted my wallet," Spencer shook his head, tossing his button-down to the side and working on his pants, "I wanted to tell him it wouldn't be worth much because I only have enough for bus fare, I said, but he wouldn't have it. So angry. Anyways, I turned around and recognized the street from the cab drive with you, so I just came here. Oh, dear, I hope that's okay."_

_He turned to me, eyes wide._

_"He tried to take your money?"_

_Spencer nodded slowly, "Yes. Is that bad? I didn't have that happen to me in Vegas. But, then again, I suppose things are different here. I hardly went outside before unless I was visiting my mother. Was I supposed to give him my money? Oh, no. I'm sorry. Was I rude? Was that a mugger? I'm so confused."_

_"You're fine. Where do you live anyways?"_

_He shrugged, "I don't know. Nice little conglomeration of apartments. I like it. My neighbor's name is--"_

_"Tell me later. It's early. You can sleep on the couch."_

**\--**

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" I ask quietly.

"I figured it wouldn't matter much. I'm a chatterbox, I know, I just don't like talking about things like that. It makes me pretty sad, which is weird. I don't get sad often. I just

didn't want to leave ya." He smiles, "Or California."

He turns the "r" on his tongue, his voice deep in an attempt to do an impression of me.

"I hope you like the cupcakes," he says, leaning up on his tiptoes and kissing both of my cheeks, "You've been a great host, and a terrific friend. I'm sorry for being so... me."

And then he steps out of the door.

\--

_Three years later._

  
**Spencer-not-Spence:** This flight could not be taking any longer. The man beside me snores very loudly, and it's not even as attractive as yours are. Have you washed your hair? If not, do it now. I miss it. It's very soft. I cut my hair, I hope you like it. It's a bit different since the last time we video-messaged. It would be pretty odd if you didn't like it, but then again, I don't think you'll be sending me off again lol.

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** Did I use it correctly, the "lol"? I chuckled out loud. But "col" looks a bit strange. That might just be me. I'm so excited to see you!

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** I'm in the cab. I can't wait. This cab driver isn't very nice, but his glasses are nice. I'm going to ask where he got them.

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** He's not talking. I hope we're close. :)

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** God, I love emoticons. You hardly ever use them, shame on you. I hope you'll smile when I get home. You've got such a gorgeous smile, Der.

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** We're on the special street! They changed the signs. I don't like it. Green was a lot better, but I guess the orange reminds me of Nevada. The desert part is quite bland, right? I can hardly recognize this place. I hope you still have that nice voice of yours.

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** I see our house from here. Did you get a new car? I like it! How pretty, the color is. Like your eyes.

 **Spencer-not-Spence:** WE'RE PULLING IN!

 

I hear a knock on my door and shoot up from my seat on the couch. I pulled the suit from my sister's wedding out of the closet and am now wearing it, and I guess I like it. I hope Spencer does.

I fling the door open and tumble back as a small body collides with mine.

"Wow! You're so much taller than I remember! Well, now that you're not on a tiny screen. I like you here more, not that I didn't there. I like you all the time, you know?" He pulls away and looks me up and down, "Aren't you looking dapper? Are we going to a wedding? I thought your sister already had hers?"

"She did, I just wanted to look... better than usual. Sorry."

"No, no. You and your apologizing, come here! I need more of you, it's been so long!" He kisses both of my cheeks and grabs my hands, "Is Miss Baby still here?"

"He-- she's napping, right now."

He seems proud of me. I'm glad.

"Now," I watch as he pulls his backpack from his shoulders and opens it, "to the burning questions."

He pulls something out, a shopping bag. I send him a look, and he only smiles in response. His smiles are a lot brighter in person, screens can't do him any justice.

"Here's your heels, Mr. Freedom," he pushes it into my chest, "It's an authentic one, I hope you like it. I'm sure you'll look as handsome as ever, maybe a little bit more. I'll introduce Wyatt to her toys as you change. Hopefully it's the right size. I went everywhere. People in Vegas are so tiny, and you're so tall. I was telling my mother and she needed proof, so I showed her one of those pictures you sent-- those were for that, by the way, I wasn't doing anything with them. Although, all of Vegas would bow to you if you went there. You'd tower over all of them in the heels I got. Do you think you could reach the top of the imitation Eiffel on your tip toes? I'd love to see that-- oh! Heels, try them on! Please, oh God, I've waited ages!"

I roll my eyes, rubbing the bristly fabric between my fingers, "Baby's in my room."

He turns to go the room, but stops and looks back to me, "Hey, Der?"

"Yes, Spencer?"

"Ah, you remembered," he smiles wide, and claps his hands twice excitedly, "That's all I needed. Go become the queen you were born to be."


End file.
